


Love, lies and other four letter words

by Woldy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, Love/Hate, POV Female Character, Secrets, War Era, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-26
Updated: 2009-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woldy/pseuds/Woldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny Weasley learns three things in the first weeks of her sixth year: that one can survive almost anything, that girls are erotic, and that Gryffindors can plot with the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, lies and other four letter words

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://la-dissonance.livejournal.com/profile)[**la_dissonance**](http://la-dissonance.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hpequality/profile)[**hpequality**](http://community.livejournal.com/hpequality/) fundraiser. She requested a rather dark story where Ginny seduces Pansy. I'm not sure if this counts as dark, but I really hope you like it. Many thanks to [](http://cindas.livejournal.com/profile)[**cindas**](http://cindas.livejournal.com/) for beta-ing this fic.

_"If you only have words, choose your words carefully. Because they can get you fed. Get you off. Get your heard. Get you hard. Get you killed." Thea Hillman_  
"Who's being sentenced today?" dad asks, glancing at the clock as he gulps down the last of his porridge.

"Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini and…" says George, scanning the Daily Prophet, "oh, Pansy Parkinson."

"I don't like to speak ill of anyone," mum says with a disapproving sniff, "but those young people deserve to be taught a lesson. Ginny!"

"What?" says Ginny, jolting to attention and then sees the blood dripping from her hand.

"You should be more careful when handling knives! Rinse it under the tap and I'll heal it for you," mum orders.

"I can do it," Ginny insists, struggling to suppress her memories as the bloody water swirls down the sink.

Though she has cast the healing charm many times before, it's a while before Ginny is composed enough to raise her wand.

\-------------------------------------------

Ginny Weasley learns three things in the first weeks of her sixth year: that one can survive almost anything, that girls are erotic, and that Gryffindors can plot with the best.

Following Parkinson is a lot harder than Ginny had hoped. It would have been easier with assistance, but Ginny avoids telling Neville and Luna what she is doing. Neville would be shocked and while Luna is hard to predict, Ginny suspects she would be upset.

No, this is something Ginny needs to do alone, a secret held close to her chest like a heartbeat.

The first time Ginny secretly leaves a flower on Parkinson's table in the library, Parkinson glares at it as if trying to wither the bloom with her eyes. She leaves the flower where it is and stomps away.

On the second occasion Parkinson examines the lily gingerly, as if searching for jinxes or booby traps, and then deposits it in the dustbin.

By the time Parkinson finds the third flower, she's become curious. Ginny can tell from the way she deliberately avoids looking at it.

The fourth flower, a brilliant orange tulip, is tucked surreptitiously into Parkinson's bag when she gathers up her belongings to leave.

As Ginny sneaks up to deposit the fifth, Parkinson steps out from behind a bookcase with her wand drawn.

"Weasley," she says, as if the name itself were a curse, "what the hell are you doing?"

Ginny hesitates for a second, weighing her options. "Well," she says, "if I was a Slytherin then it would be some clever, manipulative scheme. Since I'm not, I guess I'm just trying to get into your pants."

Parkinson's eyes narrow. "Whatever the fuck it is, stop."

"Or what?" Ginny asks, stepping forward. She leans in close enough to make Parkinson uncomfortable, her breath hot against the other girl's cheek. "Going to cruciate me for giving you flowers?"

"Don't push your luck," Parkinson says menacingly, fingers tight around her wand, "or I just might."

She flicks the wand, reducing the bloom to a puff of smoke and ash, and leaves without glancing back.

Three days later Ginny leaves a scented white rose, which is clutched tightly in Parkinson's hand when she confronts Ginny about it.

"I fucking told you to stop this," Parkinson hisses, tossing the crushed rose onto the desk. Her body is tensed as if primed for attack or flight.

"And I heard you," Ginny says, "but I'll let you into a secret."

Parkinson's breath hitches as Ginny moves in, her lips almost brushing Parkinson's earlobe as she says "I really don't want to stop."

Ginny isn't sure precisely when things altered between them, whether it was the accumulation of flowers, the conspiracy of silence they've forged in the library or something else, but she can read the change in the way Parkinson avoids her in public. Perhaps the best a Slytherin can do at Hogwarts now is to turn a blind eye to their activities. After all, if the resistance isn't happening then it can't be punished.

Inevitably, the strategy of avoidance doesn't work. Ginny realises that when she returns from the Room of Requirement one night and finds a Hufflepuff fifth year collapsed on the floor with Parkinson and Amycus Carrow standing over him.

"Can't you… I don't think I can-" Parkinson stutters.

Ginny slides into the shadows, her back pressed hard against the wall as she tries to breathe as quietly as possible.

"You're a prefect," Carrow growls, threat in every syllable. "It's your job to punish _traitors_."

Parkinson's hand shakes as she whispers the curse and Ginny wonders if Parkinson's eyes are shut to block out the sight of the student writhing beneath her wand.

It must feel like forever to the victim, but living with this daily threat has given Ginny a chilly rationality which tells her that it's only a moment before Parkinson's resolve breaks. By looking at the relaxation of the student's limbs and the easing of his silent grimace, Ginny can tell the instant that the curse dissipates.

"Eight seconds?" Carrow jeers, "We'll think you're a traitor yourself if that's the best you can do."

Ginny watches Amycus Carrow walk away and counts slowly to ten before stepping into the light. Parkinson stands quaking over the sobbing Hufflepuff and she's murmuring a litany of _please, can you, sorry, all right,_ a desperate jumbled plea for forgiveness.

Ginny reaches out to touch Parkinson's shoulder, but Parkinson flinches away, her face white. She wavers for a moment, almost falling, and then flees for the bathroom.

Ginny helps the Hufflepuff back to his common room before finding Parkinson. She is hunched over a basin being repeatedly, brutally sick, but she doesn't retreat from the gentle hand Ginny lays on her hair.

"I don't know what to do," Parkinson says as she kneels on the cold, tiled floor. "Should I refuse, or… It's destroying us."

"Do the best you can," Ginny says, trying – and failing – not to judge Parkinson for the choices she makes.

Ginny doesn't think she'll ever forget the anguish in Parkinson's eyes as she cast the Cruciatus Curse. It is the first time she realised what damage this war does to their opponents and wondered how to weigh that against the pain of their victims. Sometimes this feels like a vicious circle of death and torture, a snake eating its own tail. Inadvertently Ginny recalls her first sight of the basilisk, the menacing potency of its coils, and shivers at the memory.

Parkinson's brittle, prickly veneer shattered that night and underneath it her insecurities gleam like silver.

It's strange how easy Ginny finds it to charm Parkinson, but then there is so little comfort available to them now. Ginny doesn't think anyone has touched Parkinson so softly before, has caught her tears with their fingers or cradled her when she was tired. Perhaps nobody else has ever slid their fingers and mouth over her pale, soft skin until she came undone, shaking before them.

When Ginny calls her beautiful one night, hair messy and with dark smudges under her eyes, it is painfully clear that Parkinson doesn't agree. It's tragic that she recognises her own beauty only if it is reflected in other people's eyes.

Despite the tenderness of their gestures Ginny finds it difficult to say the words at first. It's not until the third or fourth time she murmurs 'I love you', lips pressed against the damp skin of Parkinson's neck, that Ginny doesn't tremble as she says it.

The most frightening words in her life all seem to begin with 'l' at the moment: love, lies, loss, that other, longer 'l' word which should be trivial but which Ginny dreads hearing whispered in the corridors.

So Ginny says 'I love you' but she doesn't expect Parkinson to reciprocate. Pansy says 'love' in the dry drawl she uses when referring to her least favourite peers as 'darling', but if she shares the sentiment then she'll express it differently. Ginny is relying on that.

Ginny is right, in the end, when Parkinson writhes in her arms under the candlelight and whispers the words she's been hoping for. Just three syllables, the answer to a question she's asked lightly, subtly, downplaying its significance. Those syllables are the password to Snape's office.

Ginny has planned this ever since Neville first confessed his certainty that they needed the sword of Gryffindor, which tugs at him like gravity. She observed then that Snape trusted nobody, but showed more indulgence to the senior Slytherins than to anyone else. Malfoy was unthinkable, Nott had a frightening vicious streak and Zabini would have been all too enthusiastic, posing a problem in itself. Parkinson was the soft target.

She thinks of Harry's courage, his moral certainty, his insistence that one must never submit, and a sense of victory and anticipation thrills through her. Amidst these awful months, this is a perfect moment.

Ginny has lost count of how many times she's told Parkinson "I love you," but now, for the first time, she almost means it.


End file.
